And now the fight raged fiercely on all sides; but, though furious and bloody, it did not last long. Indeed, how could it? Those poor benighted, ill-trained fellows were no match for men who were, at least, well-armed and had some claim to being disciplined. Confused, hemmed in, and badly led, they surged to and fro like flocks of frightened sheep, an easy prey for sword and bullet; and though full many of them fought with dogged courage, and others with the fury of despair, there could be but one end to it. Their horses, for the most part utterly unused to warfare, were so maddened by the deafening noise of guns and muskets that they turned and galloped headlong back to Bridgewater. Nor was it long before many of the rebel foot were fleeing in a like direction; for, with our infantry across the ditch, the fight became a rout in no time. Meanwhile I had mounted Kitty, and was in the very thick of it, slashing and thrusting for my life at every turn. And thus it was I met at last a tall, red-coated fellow on a big black horse. He came towards me at a furious gallop, waving his sword and shrieking like a madman: "The God of Abraham! The God of Abraham!" As he flew by he aimed a savage blow at me. Just then a matchlock blazed and lighted up a red-blotched face. I knew him instantly. ’Twas Robert Ferguson. So sudden and bewildering had this vision been that for a space I sat there staring like a man bedazed; but Sedgemoor was that night the last place to be mooning in, and when a lanky yokel rushed upon me with a scythe I came back to my senses quick enough. Yet, even so, it was my mare that saved me. She had seen far too much already to be caught thus napping. To save her legs from being lopped off by that murderous blade, she sprang aside; and as the fellow thus foiled swung round, mowing at the air, I cut him down. Next moment I was flying headlong after Ferguson, with no thought for the battle left behind. But the time which I had lost since meeting him, though scarce a minute, yet proved enough to make my chase a hopeless one; and though I kept a keen eye on all red-coats, I saw no sign of him I sought. Still, in what mad hope I know not, I tore on, until at length, having got clear alike of those who fought and those who ran, I realized my folly, and, pulling up, was just about to turn, when, from ahead, there came the ringing sound of steel on steel, I listened. Yes, swords were clashing there not far away behind a straggling wood; and by the noise of it the combat was a fierce and deadly one. Who could it be who thus fought out their quarrel in this lonely spot two miles from where a battle raged? Bent on an answer to that question I moved slowly forwards, but had not gone far before a piercing cry rang out. Dead silence followed. The clash of swords had ceased.